


i can hardly speak

by crazywineaunt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: British Sign Language, Bullying, Comfort, Draco Malfoy is a Good Friend, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Feel-good, Feels, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts First Year, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Magic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mute Harry, Mute Harry Potter, Muteness, Narcissa Black Malfoy is a Good Parent, One Shot, Protectiveness, Ron Weasley Bashing, Scars, Short & Sweet, Sign Language, Slytherpuff, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wandless Magic, draco and harry are just marshmallows goodbye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazywineaunt/pseuds/crazywineaunt
Summary: - mute - Harry oneshot where his scar disfigures almost the entire top half of his face.orHarry's a Hufflepuff ball of sunshine who cant control his magic from overspilling when he's emotional&Draco can't contain his inner Slytherin at all and must protect his tiny overpowered puff at all costsSong used:I Can Hardly Speak - Bombay Bicycle ClubP.S. (BSL - British Sign Language)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 147
Kudos: 2038
Collections: Harry Potter, Harry Potter Fanfic Must Reads, alREADyHPfics: Harry Potter fics that I have read





	1. feels like gold

Harry tried signing again at the station officer in a last-ditch effort to figure out where Station 9 and 3/4 was supposed to be. The man scratched his head, frowning at Harry's careful hand gestures.

'You lost, kid? Let's find your parents,' the officer tried again. He looked slightly uncomfortable, clearly trying not to look Harry directly in the eyes.

Harry sighed and shook his head, turning away. Even if the officer had known sign language, he doubted he would have been able to understand Harry's self-taught sign language anyway. He didn't think summer nights spent in his cupboard poring over a BSL book filched from the public library, illuminated with light from his palms counted as proper lessons. But ever since he had found out he was going to Hogwarts, he figured he needed some form of communication with other people. The past eleven years with the Dursleys hardly counted.

They never spoke to him directly. Aunt Petunia pointed wordlessly in the direction of his next chore. The rest of the time, they pretended he was deaf as well as mute, and couldn't hear the slew of insults and derogatory comments thrown his way. When he was four, he had tried asking Uncle Vernon a question with his school notebook like his teacher had shown him, proudly holding it up on his tiptoes so his uncle could see the page with his careful scrawl. His uncle had slapped the book away with one meaty hand before storming off to the kitchen, purple with rage. The next day, his aunt pulled him out of class in the middle of the school day, making a huge fuss over how sickly 'poor little Harry' was and insisting he needed to be taken to the doctor immediately.

Harry didn't know then that was his last day of school for a long time. Seven years, to be exact. Each year, Dudley would lord his new school things over Harry and saunter off to school. Harry had almost lost hope of ever returning, until Hagrid had broken into the hut and proclaimed that he was a wizard. Harry had cared less about the wizard part and more about the part where he could go to a place to _learn_ things. At this point, he would take anything. Even if the school was apparently run by a 'crackpot old fool'.

Which was why he'd be damned if he couldn't find a way onto the elusive platform. Head down, he walked slowly through the crowd, pushing his trolley in front of him, mind working frantically.

'Packed with muggles, of course. It's the same every year.' 

Harry looked up at that. A gaggle of red-heads was clustered around a plain brick wall between platforms 9 and 10. As Harry watched, one of them broke away and ran headfirst at the wall. Harry opened his mouth in a silent shout, but the boy was already gone. Harry blinked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Oh, right. Magic. 

Screwing his eyes shut and hoping to God he wasn't about to make a massive fool of himself, Harry gripped his trolley tight and ran into the wall. When his face didn't abruptly smash into stone, he opened his eyes slowly. A gleaming red train stood on the tracks. Harry adjusted his glasses, squinting at the words emblazoned on the train head.

_**Hogwarts Express.** _

Harry smiled to himself in victory. Determinedly avoiding the curious gazes directed at his forehead, he made his way over to the train and settled quickly in the first empty compartment he could find, sinking into the seat next to the window with a content sigh. Sleep was the only thing on his mind now that he had found the train. Aunt Petunia had him up all last night cleaning out the cupboard in a final bout of pettiness before he escaped her clutches for a year. The train entered a tunnel, shrouding the compartment in semi-darkness, and he let his eyes fall shut. His sleepy bubble was popped a second later by a loud knock, followed ten seconds later by the second smallest red-head from the station barging in, rubbing at a smudge on his nose. The boy plunked down in the seat opposite Harry, looking around the compartment absent-mindedly. He did a double take when he noticed Harry in the corner.

‘Bloody hell, mate! I didn’t see you there. S’okay if I sit here?’

He frowned when Harry didn’t answer right away. He didn’t see Harry’s hands signing in the dimly lit compartment. Sunlight lit up the compartment as the train exited the tunnel. The red-head’s eyes widened when he got a proper look at Harry’s face. Harry saw the moment the boy recoiled in disgust and scrambled out of his seat.

‘Never mind, I’m gonna go find somewhere else…,’ the red-head muttered, grabbing his luggage and moving to open the sliding doors. He determinedly looked anywhere but at Harry. He made to walk out the doors at the same time someone else tried to walk in.

‘Oomph! What the – oh, it’s _you_.’

‘Weasley.’ A drawling voice floated through the doors. ‘Looks like I’m in the wrong compartment.’

‘I was just leaving,’ Weasley replied stiffly.

‘Move along, then,’ the new boy said, making shooing gestures at Weasley.

Harry examined him warily. He had white-blonde hair, almost golden in the sunlight. Unlike Weasley, his piercing grey eyes noticed Harry immediately. A flicker of shock passed over the blonde’s face when he saw Harry’s scar before his expression smoothed over like the emotion had never been there.

‘Hullo, the name’s Draco. Draco Malfoy. Is this seat free?’ he asked Harry, looking him in the eyes, gaze unwavering.

He hesitated and was about to sign something when Weasley piped up from behind the blonde, staring at Harry with open disgust now. Harry tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. The Dursleys were right, nobody wanted to be in the same room with an ugly freak like him. His head lowered and his shoulders hunched down out of instinct, hands dropping to his sides.

‘Don’t bother. He’s too high and mighty to talk to us.’

Draco rolled his eyes and whirled around to face the other boy, moving unconsciously to shield the smaller boy from the red-head’s view. ‘Did you know you have dirt on your nose, Weasley? Right there.’

Weasley flushed a bright red to match his hair. ‘That’s none of your bloody business, Malfoy,’ he muttered before scurrying away, rubbing furiously at his nose.

Draco smirked and turned to face Harry again, waiting for an answer. Harry was still curled in on himself. When he didn’t show signs of responding any time soon, Draco reached out and tapped him on the shoulder lightly. Harry flinched back a little and looked up at Draco in surprise, uncurling a little.

‘Can I stay?,’ he asked again. His tone was low and soft, in sharp contrast to the snarky drawl he had adopted with the red-head. It was this that made Harry uncurl all the way. He nodded, and slowly signed an answer.

Draco’s face lit up in excitement for a second before frowning in confusion.

‘Did you just tell me to kiss my mother?,’ he said, hands signing along with his words. Harry’s mouth fell open in shock.

‘ _You know BSL?,’_ Harry signed. Draco looked even more puzzled.

‘Okay, your signs clearly need some work.’ An awkward silence fell between them for a minute before Draco made a small ‘aha’ and opened his trunk, pulling out some parchments and a quill. He pushed them into Harry’s hands and sat down next to him, their shoulders brushing. Harry caught on to what Draco was implying and put the quill to work, quickly scribbling words while Draco read over his shoulder.

‘ **You know BSL?** ’

The blonde paused, eyes darkening for a second before answering.

‘Yes, and I’m quite good at it too, if I do say so myself. Father wanted me to learn French, of course, but I saw some muggles signing at a convention in Paris, and I had to know how they could talk without words. It’s a bit like wandless magic, don’t you think? Father didn’t approve, but mother took me to lessons after.’ He lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. ‘She says it’s our little secret.’

Draco paused his monologue to catch his breath, eyes sparkling. Harry was a little taken aback; Draco was clearly passionate about the subject. He held the quill poised in mid-air as he tried to think of an adequate response to that.

‘Oh! I could teach you, if you'd like. Sorry to break it to you, but you’re butchering it.’

Harry set the quill down at that. He clumsily signed something nonsensical, hands shaking. Draco gently grabbed his hands and placed the quill in them, raising his eyebrows at the parchment. Oh. Harry took a deep breath and started writing.

‘ **You would do that for me? Even though I look like this?** ’

Draco raised one golden eyebrow at that. Harry gestured at his forehead in case he hadn’t been clear enough.

‘What, just because your eyes are a _very_ interesting shade of green doesn’t mean I’ll get distracted from teachi – ‘

Draco’s eyes widened and he blushed, the colour immediately spreading over his pale skin. Harry barely noticed in his shock. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at him and seen anything other than the hideous scar marring his face. His lips stretched into a smile, feeling like a weight he didn’t even know had been there had been lifted off his back.

Draco gasped and looked down. The parchment and quill, along with everything in the compartment were levitating. But perhaps most surprising of all, Harry and Draco themselves were hovering a few inches above the floor. They stared at each other in wonder.

‘Anything off the trolley, dears?’

The moment was shattered and everything clattered to the floor. Draco fidgeted restlessly with an apple that had fallen out of his trunk when it crashed down, twirling it around in his hands. Harry bought a little bit of everything. As soon as the trolley witch left, Draco burst.

‘That was - that was _wandless magic_.’

Harry shrugged. He didn’t see what the big deal was. He had been reading books with light from his palms all summer. How else was he supposed to read them under the covers when his uncle locked his wand away?

Draco’s eyes turned calculating. He bit into his apple, munching thoughtfully, before leaning forward, fingers steepled under his chin.

‘How about this? You teach me how to do what you just did, and I teach you sign language? That way we’ll be even.’

Harry didn’t see anything wrong with that. He nodded. Draco’s face split into a grin. He held out his hand, pinky finger extended.

‘Pinky promise?’ Draco flushed when Harry stared at him. ‘It’s something mother and I came up with,’ he said defensively.

Harry decided to humor him and hooked his pinky with Draco’s. Draco shook their hands up and down once before releasing them.

They spent the rest of the train ride in comfortable silence. Harry dozed off at some point when the excitement inevitably wore off. It seemed like no time had passed before Draco was shaking him awake.

‘We need to get ready, we’re almost there!’

Harry rubbed at his eyes, blinking owlishly. He sneezed when something tickled his nose and frowned up at the offending strand of blonde hair.

Wait… blonde? He turned his head up slightly and saw amused silver ones looking down at him.

His eyes widened behind his glasses and he scrambled back from where he was curled up against Draco’s side. Draco looked unaffected as he got up to pull on his robes. Harry shook his head and grabbed his own trunk.

Ten minutes later, the train ground to a screeching halt and the compartment doors slid open. Harry stepped forward, only to pause at the threshold. He had avoided thinking about it before, but now doubt was pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. There were so many eyes outside the safety of this box. Eyes that would be trained on him the moment he stepped out. Fear clawed at him. He wasn’t ready for this.

‘What’s wrong?’

Harry looked behind him, surprised to see Draco still in the compartment. He had forgotten about the other boy for a second in his panic. Harry shook his head and forced a small smile for the Draco’s sake, then steeled himself and stepped out of the compartment. Draco wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press the matter and followed the dark-haired boy outside.

One eventful boat ride later (where Weasley was pulled under the lake by a giant squid arm, sputtering indignantly when he was rescued, much to Draco’s amusement), found Harry and Draco lined up outside the Great Hall with the other first years. Whenever someone’s gaze lingered too long on Harry, Draco would glare back until the offender looked away, flustered.

Harry was looking up at the floating candles in wonder when Draco whispered from behind him.

‘I never did get your name.’

Harry took Draco’s hand and turned it so it was facing palm upwards. Carefully, he traced the letters for his name in his palm. Draco mouthed the letters to himself, trying to put them together. When he figured it out, he gasped and opened his mouth. Harry quickly covered it with his hand, shaking his head. He only let go when Draco nodded. They were still waiting one minute later when Draco spoke up again, holding his right hand out.

‘Do you want to be friends?’

Harry stared at him, taken aback by the abrupt request. The other boy was exuding an air of unshakeable confidence, but looking closer, he saw uncertainty flickering in those steely eyes. Harry didn’t understand why someone like Draco would be uncertain about anyone wanting to be his friend. He reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand, shaking it. They smiled at each other. Harry felt himself growing warm from Draco’s easy acceptance and smiled wider, closing his eyes and revelling in the feeling. It was like a tiny sun had been lit inside him when he shook the blonde’s hand.

‘Harry!’ A low hiss broke him out of his reverie. He looked at Draco questioningly. Draco pointed up.

‘You’re doing it again, the magic.’

Harry looked up. The flames on the floating candles were getting bigger and bigger, melting the candles and making the hall uncomfortably warm. The other first years were starting to sweat and pull off their scarves, looking around for the source of the heat.

Harry looked back at Draco in alarm. Of all the things that he expected, he didn’t expect Draco to break out into laughter. Harry’s glare at his reaction only made him laugh harder.

‘You- you’re really something,’ Draco gasped, doubled on himself, clasping Harry’s shoulder with one hand to keep himself upright. Harry started laughing too, giggles escaping him in silent huffs. The two collapsed to the floor in their mirth, making their year mates stare at them even more. For the first time in a long time, Harry really didn’t care. In that moment, he felt like gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name’s Bond, James Bond *munches apple*
> 
> Comments are always welcome!


	2. honeybadgers and snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a small sorting update that i've had in my docs forever for you lovelies <3 🐍 🦡

Draco rocked back on forth on his heels, trying his best to hide his nerves as Professor McGonagall got closer to the M’s. What if the hat didn’t put him in Slytherin? His father’s cool disapproving face swam before his eyes. He shook his head, hard. No. Malfoys didn’t show fear. Even so, he reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand, telling himself that it was to calm the smaller boy. To be perfectly honest, the smaller boy didn’t look he was doing so well either. If his own shaking stopped at the feeling of another warm hand in his own, no one had to know.

“Malfoy, Draco!”

He squeezed Harry’s hand before letting go and striding off to the stool, shoulders straight and proud. McGonagall gave him a tight-lipped smile before placing the hat on his head.

_‘Another Malfoy, eh? I remember your father, a Slytherin through and through, that one. I can see you’re a little more complicated. Where to put you… A strong sense of loyalty, oh? But no, not Hufflepuff. You would eat them alive. It’ll have to be …’_

“SLYTHERIN!”

He sagged in relief and hopped off the stool. The clapping for Slytherin came mostly from its own table (a light smattering from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw; Gryffindor remained stubbornly silent). Draco couldn’t care less. He almost skipped over to the Slytherin table before remembering himself and making his way over to his new house with steady composed steps. He gave perfunctory greetings to the people sorted after him, attention zeroed in on the small green-eyed boy now sitting on the stool, thin hands gripping the stool in a death grip. Loud whispers broke out in the hall at Harry’s name, many of the older students craning their necks to get a closer look at the ‘Boy Who Lived’. He had to smile at the way the large hat drooped over Harry’s face, effectively shielding him from view.

Five painstaking minutes of silence later, McGonagall was about to take the hat off Harry’s head to see if something was wrong with it. Her fingers were inches from its brim when it finally proclaimed Harry’s sorting. The hat’s shout scraped through Draco’s ears like a chainsaw.

Wide emerald eyes met his at the moment his face fell in disappointment. He looked down quickly, trying to hide the way his heart was sinking. It wouldn’t do for Harry to think he thought Hufflepuff was worse in any way. It wasn’t. It was just – in all his excitement at making a new friend, he had assumed they’d be in the same house. It hadn’t crossed his mind that Harry could be sorted into another house. Schooling his face into a disinterested mask, he looked up again at the dais. Harry was long gone. He tried to find the boy at the Hufflepuff table, but he was lost in a sea of yellow and black.

***


End file.
